Daryl Dixon vs Shane Walsh
by curious-tales-of-daryl-dixon
Summary: Oneshot. Daryl Dixon comes to term with his infatuation for one of the new group members whilst feeling Shane Walsh breathing down his neck. [Daryl D./OC Shane Walsh/OC] Takes place during season two.


**Chapter one 'Pandora's box'**

Daryl Dixon woke up from a dream-filled night with a throbbing ache in his head, and an even worse one in his cock. Deeply ashamed by his own imaginations, he buried his head into the pillow as much as he possibly could, thinking back at the disgusting storyline of his dream. With a deep sigh and a low grunt, the group's favourite and therefor only Hunter gathered as much courage as he needed to raise himself from his makeshift cot. But before being able to successfully get out of bed, gravity got the best of him and made the sleepdrunken man tumble onto the ground. In frustration, he stomped away his clothing, scattered around the floor of his tent and cradled his heated forehead in the palms of his hands. After having that luscious dream about her, his erected member was standing up and demanded for _her_ touch. Since lacking her body close by his, he cursed himself for his weak desires. Just like any other night that weird girl had been the protagonist of his imaginings again. Unoriginal classic damsel in distress scenarios came to mind while Daryl was dreaming. No doubt an inevitable consequence after spending years watching Merle's old porn collection on VCR. The Hunter had done that to fulfil his sexual needs without having to go to through the drag of 'socializing' and 'wooing', both terms Daryl Dixon viciously hated.

As one might expect of movies with titles such as 'Carnal casserole' or 'Willie Wanker and the fudge packing factory', they had little chance of winning any awards for 'originality' or 'high acting qualities'. Those movies barely contained a storyline, let alone a decent plot twist. When it came down to this kind of entertainment there was simply no budget to throw in an element of surprise other than an occasional hand cuff or but slapping. The same lack of originality could be found in Daryl's fantasies. Last night he had dreamed that the new girl had been chased down by a herd of walkers and needed a hero to come safe her. The hero, being Daryl Dixon of course, killed off the biting geeks and saved her life. Afterwards, the girl had 'thanked' him graciously and repeatedly for it when he had taken her back to his tent. In there, the Hunter had pretty much done anything he damn well pleased to her. And just like every porno he had watched before, his dream had also ended with a happy ending.

But Daryl knew that this fantasy was far from reality. In real life, he had barely spoken more than a couple of empty mutters to her, even though the girl had been with them for a couple of months. Him and Shane had found her hiding in the broom closet in some store during one of their runs. Daryl had almost shot her with his crossbow, thinking her murmuring was that of a geek until her lips pronounced two clear words, 'Save me'. Knowing that the walkers did not only lose their humanity but also their capability to speak, he learned the girl was still very much alive and in need of help. She had passed out before he had a chance to reply, to assure her of his good intentions. Shane, his unlikely partner on runs, however, did not seem so keen on providing help for a complete stranger and insisted on leaving her behind. After wild protest, which the unconscious girl would never be able to recall, Daryl had managed to convince Shane to bring her back to the group.

Daryl wished the girl would remember how he had fought for her. Sure, he hadn't killed any walkers to save her, but he had stood up to Shane. And that was as close as Daryl could ever get to being a hero. Daryl also wished he would be able to tell her someday. For now, he had merely watched her interact with the rest of the group as he stood by. Since he had no idea of the simplest wooing tricks worked, he hoped that somehow she would find a way to talk to him first.

A low grunt escaped his throat when thinking back at the times his elder brother set up 'dates' for him. Sure, they had helped take care of a need for a night, but it had done little to overcome his social awkwardness. Even the mere thought of conversing with the girl, made his stomach twirl and his throat tighten. It seemed after forty years of life, Daryl Dixon was still an amateur at human interaction.

But Daryl was aware of this weakness. Though he lacked a serious amount of self-confidence, he had been trying to find a place in the group. He knew very well that he was not a smooth talker, nor a ladies man like Shane, and didn't possess any social skills let alone those of a flirtatious kind.

Daryl also did not understand his own infatuation with the new girl since there was nothing extraordinary about her looks. She was not his type at all. Daryl had always liked a girl with an ass and a pair of tits to grab, but this girl had neither. For some altruistic reason he did not comprehend, she had been giving her meals to Carl and Lori, and had now become way too skinny for her own good.

Daryl could tell just how thin she was by looking at her legs. The girl had the annoying habit of wearing skirts, even in the middle of the apocalypse. And for some reason Daryl did not comprehend, she covered her long legs with knee socks. It was the month of May and moving around without breaking sweat was difficult. Spring breezes bringing any relief from warmth were rare in Georgia, yet the girl _insisted _ on wearing knee socks every single day. Daryl didn't understand why she would go through that much trouble.

Her long black hair was constantly in knots and looked sickly dry. Yet in the mornings Daryl could see how it radiated a bizarre colour of red in the sunlight. The white skin on her face plastered with freckles and tense smiles. Avoiding any eye contact, her eye colour had remained a mystery to him until recently when he had seen her eyes unexpectedly avert from Shane's form to his. Daryl had been staring at her again. Somewhere along the conversation of which he no longer could recall the subject, the girl looked up from burning fire and straight into his eyes as if she knew he had been watching. But just as quickly as their eyes greeted, they said their goodbyes to one another. And just like before Daryl's uneasy blue eyes focused themselves on the ground again, trying to mind his own business and not get involved in anything related to her. But it had been too late. Daryl had already taken note of her green orbs inviting him in for a conversation. Daryl neglected this invitation of course and went back to ignoring her. He lasted about three days before he started staring at her from across the fire once more She _was_ beautiful, even his critical eyes had to admit that. But in an ordinary kind of way, there was nothing special about her.

_Yet he kept having these strange dreams about her. _

Daryl let his head sank even further into the palms of his hands, sighing heavily in defeat and irritation. He had never felt this primitive need before. Even before the apocalypse, other than watching a couple of porn videos to get a quick release, sex had never interested him. Sure, he had done _it_ a couple of times, deeming it necessary after his brother Merle had called him a faggot in front of his drinking buddies. Usually they were just quick fucks against the wall of the bar. One time, however, there had been a girl he really liked. During happy hour drunken courage had settled in his veins, allowing Daryl to bring the girl home with him – home being a trailer in the trailer park he shared with his brother. His drunken state made him forget the scars on his back and chest. He was, however, reminded of his mistake the next morning when he woke up to the sound of her talking to one of her friends on the phone, calling him 'underprivileged' and 'damaged'. Daryl had been furious, throwing her outside of his home. He had basically given up on women after that. _There're all whining bitches anyway. _His brother's voice echoed in his head. _Bitching and whining is all they're good for. _

After that Daryl had never really tried for sex or any human contact for that matter, even though he did have a closeted desire for it. And now he seemed keen on the idea of taking Her as his bitch in his tent. Not only had he been having strange dreams about the girl at night, during the day she come to his mind as often too. During a hunt Daryl found it impossible to think about something else other than her hair fisted in his hands as his hips pounded into hers. She was a fucking distraction. And he blamed it all on _her_. She had _ruined_ him and he fucking hated her for it.

But even though Daryl could still see his morning wood, he refused to touch himself because of her. So he quickly switched boxers and ignored the erection pressing against his lower stomach. Struggling his way into a pair of jeans and a loose flannel shirt, Daryl began the process of becoming 'Daryl Dixon' – the Callous Redneck that people expected him to be. Finishing with a cherry on top as he fumbled the winged leather jacket on and swung his loyal crossbow over his shoulders. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his roughly calloused fingertips, Daryl forced himself to walk outside and face daylight, which had just starting showing through the broken zipper of his tent.

His desire for her had quieted down for now and had been replaced by an emotion he knew better – that one of peckish anger. Daryl experienced this strange feeling every morning waking up, seeing her at breakfast but not being able to really talk to her.

Every morning the Hunter would wake up early, throw some clothes on and walk towards the herd of tents, circling the fire. The girl seemed to be an early bird just like he was, and served him breakfast every morning.

She was always the first one up of the group and he was always the second awake as he wanted to start his search for Sophia early in the day. Daryl would just acknowledged her with a silent nod and accepted what she handed to him but further said not a word to her. She would continue reading her book whilst eating, completely unaware of Daryl's stares. Nothing could be heard but the slurping of coffee, chirping of morning birds, turning of pages and the rhythmic snores coming out of T-dog's tent. Daryl assumed that this silence between the both of them was something she preferred, just like him. Normally after their meal together Shane would wake up along with T-Dog and they would start making a lot of noise, signalling the reluctant beginning of yet another day in the apocalypse.

Usually she would just cook up some beans or oatmeal, and on occasion some spare eggs given by the Greene Family. But yesterday there had been a special treat. The girl had managed to bake some bread, after a successful run had brought them back yeast. After waking up to the smell of fresh and warm bread, Daryl had left the tent urgently to get a first taste. Little did he know, that other people's sense of smell in times of hunger had picked upon the aroma of the delicacy as well. So by the time Daryl had arrived at the improvised cooking place, an entire crowd had gathered around the girl and her freshly baked bread.

This meant that the moment Daryl and her normally shared alone had been ruined and trapped upon by an unwelcome herd of people. Daryl felt a strange sense of betrayal, like the girl had ratted him out somehow by letting the others take away the only moment him and her shared during the day.

Daryl had walked away from the crowded scene in anger, feeling like his entire day had been ruined by this. He was going to look for Sophia without a meal. Daryl almost made it into the woods before he could hear a loud limping behind him.

"Daryl! Wait!" He had immediately known who the voice belonged to, even though it had never directed itself to himself. As he turned around, he could see the girl standing there.

"I saved you a piece," she had spoken hesitantly, handing him over a wrapped package containing some bread.

"Thanks…," Daryl had muttered in response. Being used to only using non-verbal gestures around her, Daryl did not know what else to say.

"Pandora," she offered. "My name is Pandora. But my friends call me Panda."

Daryl had nodded in response, even though he'd already known her name prior. In his mind he could hear his own voice panting it during one of his dreams. He did find it strange, however, that she mentioned her nickname to him. _Did this mean he was allowed to call her that? Were they friends? _

"I hope you like it." She said softly.

"You hope I like yer name, girl?" Daryl asked, not understanding the strange girl and the kindness she was offering to him.

"No, no," she laughed awkwardly, "I meant the bread. I hope you like the bread."

"Oh, 'f course." He grunted, sighing at his own foolishness.

"I wrapped it up for you so it doesn't get bad when you're looking for Sophia," Pandora explained, pointing at the package in his hands. "I didn't know what you liked on your sandwich, so I just went for squirrel... You know, it's been a classic sandwich since the apocalypse," she joked uncomfortably, looking down at her feet. "It was either that or peanut butter and I don't know what you like. I just thought because you're always hunting squirrel that it must be your favourite animal to eat or something. I can get you peanut butter if you would prefer it… –"

"It's fine, girl. A hunter who doesn't eat his own food is a fool," Daryl said, putting a stop to her nervous babbling. But the Hunter quickly realized his mistake after the conversation came to a stop and now there weren't any of her fast words filling up the empty awkwardness surrounding them.

"I'm Daryl," He gruffly said, finally breaking the silence after a minute of uncomfortable feet-shifting.

"Yeah, I know," she replied, showing him a little smile which was supposed to make him feel more at ease, but did quite the opposite. It made him suspicious of her.

"Good luck out there, Daryl. Be safe," she shyly said before walking back, leaving the Hunter to stand in awe. _Did she just make him a sandwich and wished him good luck? _

"I don't need luck," he muttered to himself. Choosing not to dwell on what had just transpired between him and the girl, Daryl walked into the woods, hoping that today would be the day he would bring Sophia home.

Pandora tried to shake the strange feeling Daryl gave her off of her, but couldn't resist a final look over her shoulder, seeing the wild man walk into the forest surrounding the farm. Little did Pandora know that by saying her name, she had broken the spell of silence that seemed to be cast between Daryl and her. Moreover, it was as if she had opened a box filled with contents so unfamiliar to the curious Hunter that he was fully intending on exploring what was inside.

* * *

><p><strong>Published these drabbles on wattpad two years ago and never got around to finishing them. If anybody feels like cowriting with me, I have parts of a second chapter :)<br>**


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